The Pilgrimage
The regime had just decreed a new law and as a result in almost every town and city that I came across there were long columns of frustrated people. One had no choice but to stand in the line. Many were not particularly fond of those in power or their methods. In fact they would be rather pleased if the rulers left their posts for good. But even thinking such thoughts could prove fatal so everyone simply complied and stood in the queue, even pregnant mothers.
It was a difficult time. Not just for the country but for the entire world.
It was ‘the fullness of time’.
The period in question was Anno Domini the year of the Lord and the country was Palestine, an outpost of the Roman Empire. Caesar Agustus's ‘Census of the World’ was underway.
I left my time-machine in the desert outside Jerusalem and set out to visit the Holy Family. After a change of robes and a neutral headgear I started my pilgrimage pretending to be a traveller from the east. I bought myself a camel which was to take me to Bethlehem, the little one. Unlike the learned and well informed Magi I had only three clues as to the whereabouts of JMJ, Bethlehem, inn and manger.
I was about to leave when I heard rumours that a new King of the Jews was born and that His location would be discovered soon. There was no official confirmation from the Palace but there were reports that the King was greatly distressed and so were the people. I believe the distress was due to the possible consequences this news might bring from the Governor's troops, probably raids and executions. Lamps were put off early, all doors were shut and the children were told to stay hush. It was Christmas in Jerusalem. Almost anything you do or say could be deemed anti-government, even unconfirmed rumours. The people hoped it better not be the zealots again.
But it was confirmation that I arrived at the right time so I did not delay my journey south any longer. After losing my way several times I tagged along a caravan and reached my destination. If the lights in every house in Bethlehem were put off you wouldn’t even know that a settlement existed there. But that was where Kings were born.
I sifted through the entire town but to no avail. I was tired and my body ached. I had covered all the inns of the village or so I thought. With the noise coming from each house I couldn’t differentiate a regular home from a hotel. Just then a few yards away from me I heard the noise of a busy guest-house. Going round the establishment I found the scene.
I was still several feet away and I paused for a brief moment because my feet refused to move and my knees trembled. The knowledge of what I am about to witness came down heavily on me. Besides, my attire was hardly appropriate for His Majesty’s court. But my heart galloped almost as if to break out of my chest to lay eyes on the child. I pulled myself together and genuflected. As I rose my hand looked for a bowl of holy water to sprinkle myself with. I didn't realise I was not in a chapel. But then, I was.
There was a small crowd but I slowly pushed my way through. The shepherds looked like all of their sheep were well fed in green pastures, none of their sheep was lost, and not a single one in a wolf’s disguise. They simply looked content and overwhelmed with joy.
There were presents laid out on the ground. The Frankincense fogged the view but I sneaked forward for a better look. The gold intimidated my humble presence and empty hands but I could not miss this chance. I tried hard not to notice the Myrrh because I knew why it was there. But I looked anyway just to see what Myrrh actually looked like. Despite being the 'Proprietor of all' He was still in need of something in my possession, a reluctant heart.
Once at the very front I avoided looking straight or making eye contact and quickly got down on my knees, bowed and touched my nose to the ground. I could not be content with only prostrating before the Presence although I felt utterly unworthy to look into the first monstrance. So I took a deep breath, mustered all the courage I could, lifted myself up and considered each detail of the picture before me starting with Him.
It was odd that there was nothing odd about Him. He looked just like any other new-born. The Son of God was so normal you could pass by Him and not even notice. Yet automatically for a second time I bowed. As I rose my peripheral vision caught the image of the girl who was now in charge of Omnipotence and I took a quick glance. The glance lingered and became a contemplation. Leonardo would have spent his entire life trying to capture the grace in her eyes. Michelangelo would have broken his bones trying to carve out the exact expression. It was as if the question from the annunciation ‘How can this be?’ stayed on as she kept pondering. I saw the Rosary come to life. I burst into my biggest grin ever and she reciprocated with her gentlest smile. Both of us then turned back to Him.
I surveyed the Prince from head to toe but my thoughts were disturbed. When I looked at the fringes of soft brown hair all I could think of was a crown of thorns. The tiny hands reminded me of those bloody nails. The frail body would be just as frail one day and He would be just as innocent.
I requested the tired mother for a chance to hold the child in my arms. What a nerve! But she agreed. Him whom the heavens cannot contain I embraced in my arms. My hands trembled at the thought. He was so light. Soon He'd be lighter. The amount faith I needed to see Him in the host is the same amount of faith I needed to see that He who sees everything was looking at me. Holding back tears could block my vision so I opened the flood gates because I wanted to gaze into the countenance of God Himself. I was swaying in awe by now and I was scared I might drop the baby. St. Joseph cleared his throat to remind me of the awkwardness I was creating. I placed the little bundle of Eternity back where He belonged, the bosom of His mother. He was comfortable now and Mary started nursing Him. And while He filled His stomach He looked at the Woman. The infant probably wondered why she is so beautiful. I guess He soon realised that it was He who created her and He made her the most beautiful woman on earth, the most beautiful woman ever. He smiled at His own work, His masterpiece.
The small gathering began to disperse. I was glad to see the drummer boy leave. Quiet at last. I decided to remain for a little longer. Sitting in the corner I marvelled at the sight before me and slowly dozed off. I woke to the sound of the inn-keeper shouting at me. Even the life stocks were annoyed with my presence. I searched frantically for the Holy family but they were nowhere to be seen. They must be on their way to Egypt by now. The King of kings was now a refugee. I wondered if a poor and unemployed refugee St. Joseph carrying child Jesus would be selling his woodwork in a square in Cairo to feed his family. Or maybe they won’t be welcome in the first place.
On my way back to the time machine I heard mothers wailing for their slaughtered children. The cross has already started casting its shadow. Many stopped praying that day.
Oppressive government, rumours, rebellion, refugees, murder of innocents, the circumstances seemed all too familiar to the time period I came from.
Troubles now, troubles two millennia from now. What difference would it make if I just stayed back in the first century or travelled back to the twenty first? But I will not take the chance.
Come what may, life is better on the other side of Easter Sunday.
-Sam
It was a difficult time. Not just for the country but for the entire world.
It was ‘the fullness of time’.
The period in question was Anno Domini the year of the Lord and the country was Palestine, an outpost of the Roman Empire. Caesar Agustus's ‘Census of the World’ was underway.
I left my time-machine in the desert outside Jerusalem and set out to visit the Holy Family. After a change of robes and a neutral headgear I started my pilgrimage pretending to be a traveller from the east. I bought myself a camel which was to take me to Bethlehem, the little one. Unlike the learned and well informed Magi I had only three clues as to the whereabouts of JMJ, Bethlehem, inn and manger.
I was about to leave when I heard rumours that a new King of the Jews was born and that His location would be discovered soon. There was no official confirmation from the Palace but there were reports that the King was greatly distressed and so were the people. I believe the distress was due to the possible consequences this news might bring from the Governor's troops, probably raids and executions. Lamps were put off early, all doors were shut and the children were told to stay hush. It was Christmas in Jerusalem. Almost anything you do or say could be deemed anti-government, even unconfirmed rumours. The people hoped it better not be the zealots again.
But it was confirmation that I arrived at the right time so I did not delay my journey south any longer. After losing my way several times I tagged along a caravan and reached my destination. If the lights in every house in Bethlehem were put off you wouldn’t even know that a settlement existed there. But that was where Kings were born.
I sifted through the entire town but to no avail. I was tired and my body ached. I had covered all the inns of the village or so I thought. With the noise coming from each house I couldn’t differentiate a regular home from a hotel. Just then a few yards away from me I heard the noise of a busy guest-house. Going round the establishment I found the scene.
I was still several feet away and I paused for a brief moment because my feet refused to move and my knees trembled. The knowledge of what I am about to witness came down heavily on me. Besides, my attire was hardly appropriate for His Majesty’s court. But my heart galloped almost as if to break out of my chest to lay eyes on the child. I pulled myself together and genuflected. As I rose my hand looked for a bowl of holy water to sprinkle myself with. I didn't realise I was not in a chapel. But then, I was.
There was a small crowd but I slowly pushed my way through. The shepherds looked like all of their sheep were well fed in green pastures, none of their sheep was lost, and not a single one in a wolf’s disguise. They simply looked content and overwhelmed with joy.
There were presents laid out on the ground. The Frankincense fogged the view but I sneaked forward for a better look. The gold intimidated my humble presence and empty hands but I could not miss this chance. I tried hard not to notice the Myrrh because I knew why it was there. But I looked anyway just to see what Myrrh actually looked like. Despite being the 'Proprietor of all' He was still in need of something in my possession, a reluctant heart.
Once at the very front I avoided looking straight or making eye contact and quickly got down on my knees, bowed and touched my nose to the ground. I could not be content with only prostrating before the Presence although I felt utterly unworthy to look into the first monstrance. So I took a deep breath, mustered all the courage I could, lifted myself up and considered each detail of the picture before me starting with Him.
It was odd that there was nothing odd about Him. He looked just like any other new-born. The Son of God was so normal you could pass by Him and not even notice. Yet automatically for a second time I bowed. As I rose my peripheral vision caught the image of the girl who was now in charge of Omnipotence and I took a quick glance. The glance lingered and became a contemplation. Leonardo would have spent his entire life trying to capture the grace in her eyes. Michelangelo would have broken his bones trying to carve out the exact expression. It was as if the question from the annunciation ‘How can this be?’ stayed on as she kept pondering. I saw the Rosary come to life. I burst into my biggest grin ever and she reciprocated with her gentlest smile. Both of us then turned back to Him.
I surveyed the Prince from head to toe but my thoughts were disturbed. When I looked at the fringes of soft brown hair all I could think of was a crown of thorns. The tiny hands reminded me of those bloody nails. The frail body would be just as frail one day and He would be just as innocent.
I requested the tired mother for a chance to hold the child in my arms. What a nerve! But she agreed. Him whom the heavens cannot contain I embraced in my arms. My hands trembled at the thought. He was so light. Soon He'd be lighter. The amount faith I needed to see Him in the host is the same amount of faith I needed to see that He who sees everything was looking at me. Holding back tears could block my vision so I opened the flood gates because I wanted to gaze into the countenance of God Himself. I was swaying in awe by now and I was scared I might drop the baby. St. Joseph cleared his throat to remind me of the awkwardness I was creating. I placed the little bundle of Eternity back where He belonged, the bosom of His mother. He was comfortable now and Mary started nursing Him. And while He filled His stomach He looked at the Woman. The infant probably wondered why she is so beautiful. I guess He soon realised that it was He who created her and He made her the most beautiful woman on earth, the most beautiful woman ever. He smiled at His own work, His masterpiece.
The small gathering began to disperse. I was glad to see the drummer boy leave. Quiet at last. I decided to remain for a little longer. Sitting in the corner I marvelled at the sight before me and slowly dozed off. I woke to the sound of the inn-keeper shouting at me. Even the life stocks were annoyed with my presence. I searched frantically for the Holy family but they were nowhere to be seen. They must be on their way to Egypt by now. The King of kings was now a refugee. I wondered if a poor and unemployed refugee St. Joseph carrying child Jesus would be selling his woodwork in a square in Cairo to feed his family. Or maybe they won’t be welcome in the first place.
On my way back to the time machine I heard mothers wailing for their slaughtered children. The cross has already started casting its shadow. Many stopped praying that day.
Oppressive government, rumours, rebellion, refugees, murder of innocents, the circumstances seemed all too familiar to the time period I came from.
Troubles now, troubles two millennia from now. What difference would it make if I just stayed back in the first century or travelled back to the twenty first? But I will not take the chance.
Come what may, life is better on the other side of Easter Sunday.
-Sam
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